


The Pencil Portrait Problem (A Theodore Nott Mystery)

by Northumbrian



Series: Nineteen Years and Beyond [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, Dumbledore's Army, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Humor, Mystery, Novelette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10688985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northumbrian/pseuds/Northumbrian
Summary: It is Theodore Nott's final year at Hogwarts, and tensions are running high. Despite every precaution, a unique and priceless object owned by the Malfoy family is stolen from the Slytherin Common Room. Which of the odious blood-traitors in Dumbledore's Army is responsible for the theft? Theodore Nott investigates.





	1. The Observations of Theodore Nott

**1\. The Observations of Theodore Nott**

Draco Malfoy was an arrogant fool; of that, there was no doubt.

As Theodore Nott silently followed the Head Boy and his two moronic henchmen through the corridors of the castle he watched Malfoy strut, chest puffed out with self important pride. Ever since school their final year had started, Malfoy had swaggered everywhere. He had even shown a few disbelievers his Dark Mark. Theodore could barely believe Malfoy’s stupidity; a tendency to boast had always been his fellow Slytherin’s weakness, but gloating about his apparent power was the act of a fool.

Theodore and his father had discussed a number of strategies over the past two years. Thornton Nott was a Death Eater and, because of that fact, Theodore knew that the Dark Lord was using Malfoy Manor as his headquarters, that he had killed Professor Burbage in the house, and that he had taken (and lost) Lucius Malfoy’s wand in his latest failed attempt to kill Potter.

Theodore also knew that Draco had been unable to watch the cold-blooded murder of Professor Burbage. Death was unpleasant of course, Theodore was well aware of that. He had watched his grandmother die from fever when he was eight years old. But, because he’d never stood alone, Draco was weak. Draco had always lived under the shield of the power of others, arrogantly relying on his father and his connections to protect him from his many errors. Draco’s strength had always lain in the people who stood behind him; whether that was his father, Crabbe and Goyle, Professor Snape or the threat of the Dark Lord, was immaterial. Draco was unaware of the benefits of working from the shadows.

Now, Draco was back at school, and for some reason, Professor Snape had decided to make him Head Boy. Perhaps it was on the Dark Lord’s orders. Perhaps it amused the Dark Lord to have a Death Eater as Headmaster and another as Head Boy.

At Malfoy Manor, Theodore knew, Draco had been useless and insignificant; squeamish, and less skilled than the other Death Eaters he was a snivelling wretch the least among many powerful people. Here he was, he believed, superior to his fellow students. His arrogance had returned. Draco, it seemed, was incapable of learning. Like his father, Draco was a Death Eater and he was certain of his power. The Malfoys were idiots. His own father was much more sensible. As he walked through the castle, Theodore thought back to his father’s final words before he left for Hogwarts.

* * *

‘The Dark Lord is resurgent, Theodore; he is still looking for followers, but you will _not_ join him.’

Theodore had not argued, he had simply said, ‘I know, father. We have discussed my options many times. The Dark Lord has not won. Not yet.’

His father had smiled and nodded. That was the greatest praise. It was the only praise Theodore ever received.

‘The Dark Lord is, we are told, invincible,’ his father said. ‘But we were told that more than twenty years ago too, and then he vanished and we suffered the consequences. The Dark Lord has not told anyone exactly what happened all those years ago. But _he_ is still afraid of Potter, though he pretends otherwise. You know that he has tried and failed to kill Potter several times. And you know that Potter became an adult days after _his_ last attempt.’

Despite the fact that they were safe inside Pennerley Hall, safe behind protective enchantments which were many centuries old, Theodore’s father looked around and lowered his voice even further before continuing.

‘I am his loyal servant, Theodore; I have no choice in the matter. But I am not as foolish as young Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord has again failed to kill Potter. _He_ fell once, and _he_ may fall again. You are a Nott; you are the last of the Notts and I hope that I have taught you well. You are of age, and you will make your own decisions, but I firmly believe that you must play the long game. Siding with Potter is not an option for you, Theodore, it would be foolish and counter-productive. Neutrality is the only course. Be neither Death Eater nor rebel; do nothing for either side. If the Dark Lord triumphs, then you can join me at his side; if he falls, then unlike the Malfoys, you will remain free. Now is the time for you to plan. What will you do if the Dark Lord falls?’

* * *

‘Nott,’ Draco drawled. ‘You really should pay more attention when the _Head Boy_ is talking to you. You really do not want to cross _me_.’

Theodore looked around. He had been deep in thought and had not really been paying attention to where he was being led. They were on the seventh floor of the castle; he recognised the tapestry of the ballet dancing trolls. But why were they here? There was nothing here of any interest.

‘Sorry, Draco.’ Theodore tried to sound contrite. He apparently succeeded, because Malfoy appeared to be mollified. ‘Why here?’ Theodore asked.

With a nod, Malfoy silently ordered Crabbe and Goyle to leave. They grunted their understanding and separated, one walking to each end of the corridor. Malfoy looked up at the tapestry and pulled an ornate oval mirror from inside his cloak.

‘You’re here because you are very good at concealment charms, Nott,’ Malfoy said. ‘Be grateful that I’m allowing you to help me. We are going to fix this mirror to the wall, behind the tapestry. And then we are going to conceal it, so that even if someone lifts the tapestry, they still will not detect the mirror.’

‘But why here?’ Theodore asked.

‘You don’t need to know, Nott,’ said Malfoy, revelling in the fact that he knew something which Theodore didn’t. ‘All you need to know is that I am helping the Dark Lord, and you are helping me.’

Instead of the mask of studied indifference he usually wore, Theodore attempted a look of sad resignation, and tried to look pleadingly into Draco’s cold grey eyes. It worked. Draco could never resist boasting, dropping hints about what he knew.

‘Potter might not be here at school, but his friends are,’ said Draco. ‘I’ve seen Longbottom and his two filthy blood-traitor girlfriends whispering together. They are plotting something, I know it! Three Purebloods, and yet they choose to side with Mudblood and Half-blood scum. If they are looking for a secret place to meet, they might try a secret store cupboard, which I know is on this floor. Potter has used it before, but so have I.’

Malfoy chuckled, and Crabbe and Goyle dutifully joined in with the laughter. Theodore attempted a smile, an expression he wasn’t familiar with.

‘If they try to use the hidden room, the mirror will see them; it can see through tapestries and it can see people who are invisible or otherwise magically hidden. It was made to be concealed, and the Sketch Board will draw anyone the mirror sees. If this works, I will know which traitorous students are on their side. I will know who is attending any secret meetings, and they won’t know how I know.

‘Now, help me lift this tapestry and hide the mirror.’

They worked quickly, but it still took them over half an hour. Theodore used almost every concealment spell he knew in order to conceal the Secrets Revealed Mirror. He examined the mirror carefully while hiding it. The mirror and the Sketch Board magically linked to it were a unique and priceless item. So far as Theodore knew, neither had ever before left Malfoy Manor. 

The rumour was that the mirror and board had been made by Spurius Malfoy six centuries earlier, to observe his wanton wife, Voluptua. Several ancient wizarding families were supposed to have “Voluptua sketches”, highly prized erotica. The Malfoys had, of course, always denied the existence of such sketches.

‘Done,’ Theodore announced as he finally cast the illusion of stonework over the mirror.

Draco looked at the blank stone wall in satisfaction, ran his hand across it and lowered the tapestry back in place.

‘Not bad,’ Draco said. ‘I could have done it myself, of course.’

‘I know that you could, Draco,’ Theodore said meekly. _No, you couldn’t,_ he thought to himself. _I dismissed the one pathetic illusion you placed on the mirror, and you didn’t even notice._

Malfoy stood and gazed smugly at the tapestry. ‘Let’s get back to the dormitory. Come on, Crabbe, Goyle!’ he ordered.

‘Yeah.’

‘Right.’

The replies came and the group reformed. Theodore followed slowly behind the other three, pondering what he’d been told.

A hush fell when they entered the Slytherin common room. These days, Draco’s presence had that effect. Everyone was terrified of him, especially the new first-years. The four young men walked through the common room towards what, until last year, had been the NEWT level students’ study room. Now, it was Malfoy’s personal room, the Head Boy’s room. It even had a polished brass plaque on the door: “Draco Malfoy, Head Boy”. Despite the fact that Pansy was Head Girl, her name wasn’t there, and Theodore had been wondering whether he could use that to drive a wedge between the couple.

It was only weeks into the first term and Malfoy had already begun to hold court in “his” room. He strode towards it, pulled open the door, swore loudly and drew his wand. Nott, looking into the room in astonishment, realised that Draco’s target was Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting in Blaise Zabini’s lap. Zabini’s head was bent forwards and resting in Pansy’s two most prized assets. Both, however, were unconscious. He stepped forwards and pushed Draco’s wand aside.

‘Wait,’ Theodore ordered. Malfoy turned on him.

‘How dare you!’ Draco began. His pale, pointed face was pinched; small flushes of pink on his cheeks showed his anger. Theodore realised that Crabbe and Goyle were looming behind him, that one word from Malfoy would see him flattened.

‘Wait,’ Theodore said again. ‘This is a set-up, Draco; it must be. Perhaps you should check the cupboard.’

Still shaking with anger, Draco nodded, pulled a key from his robes and dashed across to the large former broom cupboard where the Sketch Board stood, hidden and protected.

‘Close the door,’ Theodore ordered Crabbe. To his surprise, Crabbe obeyed. Theodore looked quickly around the room, trying to remember how it had looked when they left.

Blaise had been on guard. He’d been alone in the room. Now, Blaise sat sleeping in Draco’s ornate chair. Pansy, had changed out of her uniform. For some reason she was wearing lots of make-up and a very revealing dress robe. She sat on Zabini’s knees, her arm was draped over his shoulder and her head bent forwards, resting on the back of his neck. Zabini’s head was so deep in Pansy’s cleavage that Theodore wondered whether he could breathe.

Theodore fought back his anger, and something akin to jealousy, and forced himself to observe. He looked around the rest of the room while Draco fumbled with the key. There were several green beads on the floor; they had not been there when they had left. Draco had stood on a couple of them in his haste to reach the cupboard and had slipped and almost fallen. One of the beads shot out from under Draco’s foot and ricocheted off the skirting board, skittering and dancing across the polished wooden floor.

Was there anything else different? Theodore continued to scrutinise the scene. The table alongside Draco’s chair contained two mugs of Butterbeer, one almost full, the other with only a few drops in the bottom. Theodore took out his wand and checked. Both contained a sleeping draught.

Draco screamed; it was a high-pitched and petulant squeal. ‘It’s gone!’ he howled in anger and frustration. ‘The Sketch Board has gone!’

‘Then I’d better find out who took it, hadn’t I?’ Theodore volunteered.


	2. The Performance of Pansy Parkinson

**2\. The Performance of Pansy Parkinson**

Pansy Parkinson strutted from the Head Boy’s Room with as much dignity as she could muster. Draco could be very hurtful at times. In many ways he was very immature, but he was a boy, and boys were often immature.

Nevertheless, Draco had dismissed her and her friends. He had belittled her in front of them. She was Pansy Parkinson; he could not treat her like that!

Draco was rich, well connected and a pure-blood. He was ideal boyfriend material, but he no longer seemed to be interested. She had successfully ensnared him in their fifth year, and everyone still knew that she was Draco’s girlfriend. Draco, however, seemed to have forgotten the fact. In the middle of last year, Draco had become even more secretive and moody than usual. He was always scuttling off somewhere, always busy with a “secret mission for the Dark Lord”. She had continued to be attentive to his needs, but had he neglected her, something that was a constant source of annoyance to her. It was unacceptable. She needed to remind him of her worth. It was the Dark Mark, she was convinced of it; it had changed him somehow. Her friends expected her to know what was going on, and she didn’t.

Draco was not the best-looking boy in the school; he wasn’t even the best-looking boy in her House; that was definitely the decidedly dishy Blaise. But Draco had wealth and power; Blaise merely had wealth. Draco should listen to her, confide in her, but he didn’t. She had considered flirting with Blaise, but he’d rebuffed her early in their fifth year, making it obvious that he wasn’t interested. Her half-hearted attempts to approach him the previous weekend had been instantly dismissed.

‘I’m not stupid enough to steal something from Malfoy,’ Blaise had told her. ‘Not even something he doesn’t really want.’

She’d protested, but Blaise had waved away her objections. ‘Draco doesn’t love you, you know; he simply tolerates you. You need him more than he needs you, and he knows it.’

‘What do you know about love?’ she’d asked spitefully.

‘I love pretty girls,’ Blaise had said. ‘I love to make them laugh and smile. And I love to kiss them. Draco loves only one person, and that person is Draco. If I wanted you, I’d chase you, though frankly, Pansy, you’d be very easy to catch. But I don’t want to chase you, because like I said, I love pretty girls.’

Pansy strode angrily along the girls’ corridor and into her dormitory. She was pretty! Not gorgeous, she knew that; her jaw was square, her eyes small, and her tiny, upturned nose made the rest of her face look even larger and flatter than it was. However, she had other assets she could use. When she dressed properly, men didn’t notice her face, because their eyes never travelled that far up.

‘He hadn’t told you anything, had he?’ asked Millicent. She was positively crowing in delight. ‘You were as surprised as the rest of us when he told us about that mirror and the Sketch Board. It’s a family heirloom; it must have cost a fortune, and he brought it here and didn’t tell you. Vince and Greg both knew, but you didn’t.’

‘Crabbe and Goyle didn’t know either. If they weren’t surprised it’s because they’re so thick, not because they knew anything,’ she snapped. ‘Anyway, what do you know about boys, Millicent?’

‘A lot more than you,’ Millicent crowed triumphantly. ‘Me’n Marcus are eterned!’

‘You’re what?’ Pansy asked, suddenly confused. ‘Marcus who?’

‘Marcus Flint,’ Millicent said proudly. ‘He bought me this.’ She fished a chain out from beneath her school robes. ‘It’s an eternity ring, stupid, an’ it means we’re eterned.’

Pansy groaned, but before she could make a cutting remark, Millicent spoke again.

‘What’s Draco ever bought for you, Pansy?’ she asked, jubilantly.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Pansy turned her back on Millicent, strode haughtily towards her chest and pulled out a set of fine dress robes. Slipping out of her school robes, Pansy put on the dress robes, sat in front of her mirror and began to carefully apply her make-up.

‘What are you doing?’ Daphne asked. ‘It’s already ten o’clock.’

‘I’m going to make sure that Draco notices me. I’m going to give him a present, and test this mirror thing of his at the same time,’ she announced. ‘Despite what Bulstrode thinks, Draco does tell me things. I know which tapestry he‘s going to put the mirror behind. I’m going to go up to the seventh floor—to Draco’s secret place, and pose in front of this tapestry. Then Draco will know that his mirror works, because he will have a sketch of me in my dress robes.’

Millicent Bulstrode snorted in disbelief. Pansy ignored her and continued to apply her make-up. Finally satisfied, she carefully readjusted her cleavage. Finding her lapis lazuli necklace in her jewellery box, she fastened it around her neck and positioned it for maximum effect, ensuring that the largest teardrop-shaped stone lay gleaming between her breasts.

‘If Draco likes what he sees, I may be some time,’ said Pansy. She pulled on her cloak to conceal her dress robes and swept proudly from her dormitory, her head held high.

Passing the doors to the dormitories for the girls in other years, she stepped out into the Slytherin common room. Silence fell. She glared at the few younger children who were still up, making certain that they knew who was boss.

As she stared around the common room, she glanced across to the door to the Head Boy’s Room. The sign annoyed her. There had never been a Head Boy’s Room in Hogwarts. After all, the Head Boy was no more than the most senior male prefect. There should not be a Head Boy’s Room unless there was a Head Girl’s Room, too. Perhaps she could persuade Draco to share.

She wondered if Blaise was still in the room. He should be. He was supposed to be on guard. Not for the first time, she wondered what it would be like to kiss Blaise Zabini. He would be more passionate and attentive than Draco; she had little doubt about that.

On an impulse, Pansy strode across to the door. If Blaise was there, she could show him her robes, show him what he was missing, and if he wasn’t, then she’d be able to tell Draco that she’d checked up on Zabini, and that he’d failed to do his duty. That would teach the smug and self-assured Blaise Zabini that it was unwise to mess with Pansy Parkinson.

She pulled open the door. Zabini was sitting slouched in an armchair. He was sound asleep. Smirking, Pansy quietly closed the door and tiptoed towards him. She was preparing to shout in his ear, when from the corner of her eye, she saw a sudden movement, and heard a crash.

* * *

When Pansy woke, it was to the sound of Theodore Nott gently whispering her name, and also that of Blaise Zabini. She opened her eyes to see the equally startled profile of Blaise Zabini, inches away from her face. He had just lifted his head from her chest; her arm was around his neck and she was sitting on his lap. Draco stood immediately behind Theodore Nott, who was pulling rather alarming faces at her. Nott seemed to be attempting to show some emotion, but whatever the emotion was, it was obviously a new concept for the skinny little boy, and she had no idea what he was trying to tell her. Draco was, as always, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

Embarrassed and annoyed, she squealed, and Zabini cursed. They disentangled themselves from each other and stood.

‘What in Merlin’s name is going on?’ Draco asked. ‘Where is the Sketch Board?’


	3. The Perceptions of Blaise Zabini

**3\. The Perceptions of Blaise Zabini**

Blaise Zabini smiled at the three girls.

‘You’ve changed your hair, Romilda; it suits you,’ he said quietly. Romilda Vane beamed, though her face fell when he gently held her friend’s hand and lifted it. ‘I’ve never seen that bracelet before, Frankie; it’s very pretty. Is it new?’ Frankie Curling smiled and nodded.

‘Zabini!’ Draco Malfoy shouted across the library. ‘Head Boy’s Room, now! I have something very important to discuss with you.’

Blaise saw several heads lifting angrily. The pretty Patil twins and the curvy Brown girl all glared at Draco, obviously annoyed. Ernie Macmillan inflated his chest; the pompous oaf was obviously about to stand and say something fatuous. The skinny Bones girl was sitting next to Macmillan. She spoke quietly and he sat back down and remained silent.

A tall, hook-nosed and bespectacled Slytherin sixth-year girl, whose name Blaise had never bothered to discover, stood, closed her books and slouched past Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. Draco muttered something which made the girl slump lower. She looked to be close to tears.

Blaise smiled apologetically at the three fifth-year girls in front of him.

‘I’d better go,’ he apologised. ‘If I don’t, we could all be in trouble.’

Madam Pince arrived. She glared at Malfoy, who simply stared arrogantly back at her.

‘We’re leaving,’ Draco told the Librarian, speaking deliberately loudly. ‘Come on, Zabini, don’t dawdle.’

Blaise squeezed Frankie’s hand before releasing it.

‘See you later, ladies,’ he said. He grinned and winked, and the three girls giggled.

‘You’re going to do a job for me, Zabini,’ Draco said as they walked down the stairs towards the Slytherin dormitory. 

‘Certainly,’ said Blaise politely. Draco hadn’t asked a question, he’d made a demand, and saying no to the Head Boy was not a good idea.

‘You were talking to three Gryffindors,’ accused Draco.

‘I was flirting with three girls, Draco. You should try it; it’s fun,’ replied Blaise wryly. ‘You’d be surprised what people tell you if you’re nice to them. Vane is a pure-blood and I’m not sure whether she’s a blood-traitor or not, but I’ll find out soon. Her very pretty friend Frankie is a half-blood, and so is the other girl. They all think that Longbottom and the snooty Weasley bitch are up to something, but they don’t know what.’

‘I’m not stupid, Zabini, I know that they’re plotting, but I’ll have a surprise for that that stupid oaf Longbottom and the ginger slut if they try anything.’ Draco rubbed his hands in expectation. Crabbe and Goyle, who had been lumbered silently along behind them, chuckled. Each of them carried a large satchel, and Blaise wondered what they contained.

‘You know a spell which prevents objects from being Summoned, don’t you, Blaise?’ Draco asked.

 _The only way you could know that, Draco, is if you’ve tried to Summon something from my trunk,_ Blaise thought.

‘Not exactly,’ he replied mildly. ‘I know a spell which prevents objects being summoned from inside an enchanted area; a box or a trunk or a room. I know several very good alarm spells, too. As you know, my trunk is alarmed. Everyone heard when the alarm went off last weekend. I only wish that I’d caught the attempted thief.’

Draco scowled.

‘My mother has a lot of very expensive jewellery and she’s very protective of it,’ added Blaise. ‘She taught me several very useful alarm and protection spells. You won’t find any of them in the standard book of spells.’

‘Well, I have something very valuable which I need protecting, and you’re going to help me,’ said Draco.

‘It will be a pleasure,’ Blaise lied glibly.

They reached the dungeon corridor. In the distance, Blaise noticed the tall girl with glasses from the library slouch through the portrait hole.

Draco strode up to the portrait and spoke the password. The portrait swung open and Draco stepped through and into the Slytherin common room. Blaise and Crabbe followed; Goyle, however, stumbled and fell flat on his face.

‘Shoelace,’ Goyle grumbled as he crouched in the corridor and refastened it. Draco folded his arms and impatiently tapped a foot.

Goyle finally stood and plodded slowly into the common room. Draco strode through, ignoring the silently staring students. He pushed open the door to the Head Boy’s Room and imperiously motioned Blaise into the room. Inside, the other Slytherin seventh-years were all sitting, waiting. Weedy little Theodore Nott sat in silence, opposite five chattering girls. Blaise suppressed a smile. Poor little Theodore, he had no idea about girls. There was a thud behind him and Blaise looked around to see Gregory Goyle on the floor again.

‘Shoelace,’ Goyle grumbled for a second time, as he again retied his lace.

‘You can’t even fasten your shoes properly, clumsy oaf,’ snapped Draco angrily. ‘Don’t forget that you’re carrying a priceless artefact, Goyle, you’d better hope that it remains undamaged. Close the door behind you when you finally manage to sort yourself out.’

Draco turned his back on Goyle and strolled across the room. He sat in the ornate high-backed, almost throne-like wooden chair he had claimed as his own, and made himself comfortable at the head of the table. Goyle closed the door and moved across to sit next to Draco.

‘Hello, Draco,’ said Pansy, smiling. Draco ignored her.

 _Poor Pansy_ , Blaise thought. _All that time vamping Malfoy, persuading him that she was the girl for him, and it’s all been for nothing._

‘Davis, make sure that the door is locked, and that we can’t be overheard,’ Draco ordered.

The small mousey girl silently rushed to obey. Blaise watched her lazily. Outside classes, he rarely spent any time with any of the Slytherin girls in his year.

There seemed to be absolutely no life in Tracey Davis. She existed only to agree with Pansy, and do the bidding of the other girls. As he watched, he wondered if there wasn’t more to both Davis and her closest friend, Perdita Spinks. The two said little, but as he looked at them closely, he began to speculate. Perhaps they were simply keeping in the background.

Davis had good bone structure and an attractive face, but she chose not to do anything about it. She was deliberately mousey, he realised. The girl was almost insubstantial, as though a light wind would blow her away and so unnoticeable as to be almost invisible. Blaise looked at the girl curiously. There was, he suddenly realised, a lot more to Davis.

Black-haired and round-faced Spinks, too, could tidy herself up and make herself look a lot more attractive, but she didn’t. She was much taller and more substantial that her friend Davis. Suddenly curious, Blaise observed them both closely. If they tried, both girls would outshine Parkinson and her horse-faced best friend Daphne Greengrass. Perhaps that was why they didn’t.

‘This is your big opportunity,’ Draco began grandly. ‘Within days, or weeks at most, the Dark Lord will track down Potter. There is no doubt that “the moron who lived” will be dead by Christmas, and then the work will really begin. The Dark Lord is already in charge, it’s now time for you to decide where your loyalties lie. We’re all pure-bloods here.’

Draco was declaiming arrogantly, and his attention was focussed on stony-faced Theodore Nott. He wasn’t watching the people he should be. Blaise noticed Tracey shrink a little at Draco’s words, and realised that Nott, too, was watching the girl. So—Davis’ blood wasn’t pure! That information might be useful, if it were true. Finding out wouldn’t be difficult. There were a couple of pretty Ravenclaw sixth-years he should be able to persuade to do some genealogical research for him.

‘When we leave Hogwarts, it will be to a world where the friends of the Dark Lord are rewarded,’ continued Draco confidently. ‘Your willingness to help me now will be a point in your favour in the future. There are disruptive elements within the school and, although the Headmaster disagrees with the Ministry, Madam Umbridge is intending to reintroduce the Inquisitorial Squad to deal with them. You will all join, won’t you?’

Everyone nodded, and they all attempt to look enthusiastic while doing so. Perdita Spinks didn’t make a good job of it, but Draco wasn’t watching her.

‘Of course, Draco,’ said Pansy ingratiatingly.

‘The blood-traitor Weasley girl has already started causing trouble,’ Draco announced. ‘And that useless fool Longbottom is helping her. I won’t be able to do anything about the dissent in the Gryffindor dormitory until the Ministry sacks that ignorant Mudblood loving old bat, McGonagall. I really don’t see why we should put up with her bullying and incompetence.’

‘Perhaps you should try actually working in her classes,’ Blaise observed languidly. He regretted his words instantly.

‘Watch what you say, Blaise,’ Draco threatened. ‘If you’re not with me, you’re against me. Just remember that.’

‘I’m with you, Draco,’ said Pansy. ‘You can count on the Head Girl, and her friends.’ Pansy looked pointedly around at the other girls.

‘I’m on your side too, Draco,’ Blaise protested. ‘You I’ve got no time for the vicious little ginger blood traitor, but I think that the Dark Lord should be watching her; she’s Potter’s girlfriend.’

‘They split up at Dumbledore’s funeral, Blaise,’ pronounced Pansy dismissively. ‘Keep up with the gossip. Potter’s probably busy getting off with that Mudblood cow Granger now.’

‘That ugly bitch should be rotting in Azkaban with the other scum,’ said Draco venomously. ‘At least this year we don’t have to deal with whining, filthy little Mudbloods like Granger.’

Blaise remained silent. He wasn’t completely convinced by the stories that Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter had split up, but there was no point in disagreeing with both the Head Boy and the Head Girl; it would simply annoy them.

Draco nodded at Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe immediately began to unfasten his satchel. Goyle, however, was staring vacantly into space, so Crabbe nudged him. Goyle immediately followed Crabbe’s example and soon, two flat, cloth-wrapped bundles were carefully placed on the table.

‘Weasley and her cronies will certainly try to involve students from other houses. That’s what they did when Madam Umbridge was in charge, and this is how we’re going to catch them,’ Draco announced. ‘This is the Secrets Revealed Mirror.’

Everyone on the room—everyone, that was, apart from Theodore Nott—pushed their chairs back when Draco spoke.

‘So, you all have secrets.’ Draco chuckled cruelly. ‘Everyone except Nott.’

‘Oh, I have secrets, too, Draco. Lots of them,’ said Nott mildly. ‘But I’ve heard of the mirror, and I know that it won’t find them.’

Draco opened one of the bags and pulled out a flat wooden board. It was two feet long, eighteen inches wide, and half an inch thick. A brass tube screwed to the side of the board contained a pencil, and several sheets of parchment were held onto the front of the board by brass clips.

‘The Mirror is in the other bag,’ Draco announced. ‘The Sketch Board magically draws the likeness of anyone in front of the mirror, even if they are invisible or in any way magically concealed. We are going to put the Sketch Board into that old broom cupboard,’ Draco pointed to the only other door in the room. ‘And I’m going to put the mirror on the seventh floor corridor and use it to check on the troublemakers. I’ve already prepared the cupboard. I’ve had a new magical lock fitted, and I have the only key. The door has been strengthened too.

‘Now I want every one of you to place an alarm spell in the room. I want everyone here to know the instant someone steps inside that room. Blaise, you will enchant the room to make certain that, even if someone somehow manages to open the door, they can’t use a Summoning Charm to remove the board without entering the room.’

‘But how will you collect the drawings and replace the parchment, Draco?’ Pansy asked.

‘By setting off the alarm spells, obviously,’ Draco snapped. ‘Now, get to work, everyone.’

It took over an hour. Blaise watched everyone carefully as they all fixed alarm spells in the six-foot square, stone walled cupboard. Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle and Spinks all spoke their spells, and Blaise was certain that he could easily undo them. The others, however, cast complex non-verbal alarm spells.

Blaise was impressed by Draco’s ingenuity. Standard alarm spells worked when anyone other than the caster entered an area. This way, even if Draco was placed under the Imperius Curse (the simplest way of avoiding alarm spells) nine alarms would still sound. Only the ten of them knew that the board was in there, and none of them was stupid enough to attempt to remove ten very different alarm spells.

To Draco’s disgust and Nott’s obvious interest, Blaise silently cast his Anti-Summoning spell. While he did so, Pansy and Daphne, under instruction from Draco, assembled a wooden tripod-easel.

Once the easel was completed, Draco carefully rested the Sketch Board on it and turned to Pansy.

‘Put it in the cupboard,’ he ordered.

‘But I’ll set off the alarms,’ Pansy protested.

‘Exactly,’ agreed Draco.

Pansy sullenly obeyed. The instant she entered the cupboard, a dissonance of alarms, bells, hooters, whistles, and the ear shattering scream of Blaise’s own spell sounded. Everyone except Draco turned off their alarms. He watched Pansy in cruel amusement and waited until she had placed the easel and left the room before finally shutting off the annoying whistle.

‘ _Accio Board_ ,’ Draco said. The Sketch Board remained on the easel.

‘ _Accio Easel_ ,’ he tried. Still nothing moved.

‘Excellent,’ he announced. He locked the cupboard door and placed the key carefully in his pocket. ‘Don’t think of stealing the key; this is a personal lock. The key will only turn in the lock if I’m holding it.’

Draco turned and looked around the room, giving everyone a smug smile.

‘Girls, you can leave. Get out, now!’ Draco ordered. Pansy sullenly led the girls from the room, and Blaise once again wondered why Pansy put up with Malfoy.

‘Zabini, you stay here and guard the Sketch Board until I get back,’ added Draco. ‘You three, follow me.’

Nott exchanged an exasperated glance with Zabini and followed Draco, Crabbe and Goyle from the room.


	4. The Investigations of Theodore Nott

**4\. The Investigations of Theodore Nott**

It was well after midnight, but all of the seventh-year Slytherins were wide awake and worried.

Theodore Nott put down his quill and looked across the table towards Perdita Spinks.

‘Thank you, Perdita,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry that you’ve had to wait so long. But our story corroborates that of the other girls. I’m afraid that none of us will get any rest until I give the Head Boy some answers. Would you mind helping me rearrange the chairs, please? Then we can ask the others to come back in here, and hopefully, we’ll eventually get into bed.’

Perdita blushed, reached across the table and patted his hand. Flinching at her touch, Theodore wondered why she had blushed, and why she’d felt the need for physical contact. Looking into her eyes, he saw disappointment, and wondered if she’d been trying to comfort, or reassure, him.

Theodore resolved to try to become a more tactile person. Zabini touched people all of the time, and he made friends easily, too. If Voldemort fell, he realised, he would need friends who weren’t Death Eaters. And if Voldemort won, then perhaps people he’d befriended might turn to him for help, something which he could certainly use to his advantage.

Having friends required trust, and helping people for no reason. Trusting people was dangerous, “Trust no one,” his father always said. Draco didn’t trust either, he didn’t share with anyone, it was safest. He watched Perdita’s blush fade; she’d made a move, instigated contact. What did it mean?

He knew that, theoretically, many people liked to be touched and held, but his mother had died when he was in his fourth year, and his father had always been remote. His father was untouchable, both figuratively and literally. Physical contact made Theodore nervous, but his lack of response had made Perdita unhappy.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I—sorry.’

Perdita simply nodded and silently helped him with the chairs. He asked her to place five chairs facing the desk, but several feet away. He then placed two pairs of chairs, including Draco’s, at right angles to the five, creating an open rectangle, chairs forming three sides, the table the fourth.

‘If you can sit there, please, Perdita.’ Theodore pointed at the fourth chair from the left in the row of five. Perdita sat obediently.

Theodore then pushed open the door to the Head Boy’s Room and peered out. Everyone else was sitting in the common room. He had now spoken to every Slytherin student in his year. He had all of the evidence he could gather.

‘Could everyone come through, please?’ he asked.

Draco was first into the room, pushing past Pansy in his haste. Theodore noted the malevolent glare Pansy gave her boyfriend.

‘Well?’ Draco demanded.

‘In a moment, Draco. I’d like everyone to take a seat first, please. If you’d sit here, Pansy.’ He guided her to the central chair, the one directly opposite his own. ‘Blaise, between Draco and the table; Millicent, you’re next to Draco too; Daphne, between Millicent and Pansy. You two, go to that end.’ He pointed Crabbe and Goyle to the two seats opposite Blaise and Draco. Tracey Davis sat uneasily between Perdita and Crabbe.

‘Well?’ Draco demanded again the moment that everyone sat.

Theodore walked silently around the table and sat. He looked around at his fellow Slytherins and clasped his hands.

‘Well?’ Draco was beginning to sound petulant.

Theodore looked directly across the table and into Pansy’s dark brown eyes.

‘Well, Draco, I’m satisfied that both Pansy and Blaise had nothing to do with this. Perhaps you’d like to apologise to them.’ Theodore noted the flash of thanks on Pansy’s face and turned to face Draco.

‘Their stories are ridiculous,’ Draco snapped.

‘So ridiculous that they must be true,’ replied Theodore evenly. ‘Any fool could have come up with a better story, and you must realise that neither Pansy nor Blaise are fools. You saw me test the mugs. They both contained a sleeping draft. I’ve spoken to all of you. I know what happened, and how. But I still have no idea who. I’m hoping that Blaise will be able to tell us, but first. This is what happened.’ Theodore Nott paused for dramatic effect.

‘The thief—we’ll call her “X”—was in this room with us when you explained your plan, Draco,’ began Theodore.

‘She! How do you know it was a she?’ Pansy asked.

‘Because she kissed Blaise,’ Theodore said. ‘She was invisible, but Blaise is confident that it was a girl.’

‘Hopes, more like,’ Pansy whispered to her friends. Theodore ignored the giggles. He frowned; the girls did not appear to understand the beauty of deductive reasoning.

‘How do you know she was here?’ asked Malfoy.

‘I don’t know, not for certain, but it’s extremely likely. You went to the library and, very publicly, announced to Blaise that you had something important to tell him. That, I think, was enough to pique someone’s interest. Goyle might be a fool, but even he can tie a shoelace. It was neatly done, very neatly done. You opened the portrait hole and entered the common room. Goyle tripped over his own shoelace, giving “X” the chance to slip into the common room. She was invisible, of course.

‘Then you ordered us all into this room and Goyle tripped over his lace again. Are your laces tied tightly, Goyle?’ Theodore asked. Goyle examined them carefully and grunted an affirmative.

‘Then walk to the door, please,’ he asked. He kept his wand hidden under the table. Goyle managed only two steps before he tripped over his lace.

‘Easy,’ said Theodore, revealing his wand. ‘I unfastened the knot and moved the lace under his other shoe. I recommend that you use a double knot in future, Goyle. Once might have been an accident, but twice, in front of each door? It was a clever way to gain entry. And of course, once she was inside this room, Draco, you told us, and “X”, everything. I’m certain that she was working on her plan from the moment she saw us casting the protection spells on the cupboard. The Sketch Board was the obvious target. Without it, you have no idea who the mirror is seeing.’

‘But the door was locked and the room was alarmed,’ Draco said.

‘True, but unimportant. May I borrow your necklace, Pansy?’ said Theodore. ‘Thank you for not repairing it.’

He made a complex series of stabbing movements with his wand, and the tiny silver chain transformed into large steel one.

‘Had you been paying attention in Professor McGonagall’s class, Draco,’ Theodore said, ‘you’d know that Transfigured items retain a memory of the object they were Transfigured into. This sturdy steel chain fits under the bottom of the door.’ He stood, and demonstrated the truth of his statement. ‘And so, apparently did the Sketch Board. So we know how, and now we must try to determine who.’

‘And what spectacular bit of magic are you going to use to determine that, Nott?’ snapped Draco. ‘Or are you going to simply announce that it was Weasley? Because who else could it be?’

‘It wasn’t Weasley!’ protested Zabini, horrified.

‘Then it must have been Lovegood,’ Pansy suggested.

‘Merlin, no!’ Zabini slumped in his chair, terrified by that thought. ‘It couldn’t have been Lovegood,’ he protested. ‘This girl could talk sensibly.’

‘I don’t think that it was either of them. But you will tell us, Blaise. If you’d care to stand up, please,’ Theodore ordered.

Blaise did so.

‘And if you will all stand too.’ He indicated the girls. They cautiously stood. Theodore had arranged them in order of height. Millicent was the tallest, taller than Blaise, and Tracey was the smallest, she and Pertida were the only ones shorter than Theodore himself. Blaise looked along the line, and then looked curiously at Theodore.

‘Height,’ Theodore demanded. ‘Was your head up, or down?’

‘Down when she started kissing him, but up when she finished,’ Daphne giggled.

Theodore looked at Daphne in confusion. The girls all laughed.

Blaise gazed thoughtfully between Pansy and Daphne. He bent forwards towards Daphne, moving his lips towards hers. When she lifted her head to reciprocate he stepped hastily backwards.

‘Taller than Pansy, but not quite Daphne’s height,’ he announced. ‘She was definitely nowhere near as tall as Bulstrode.’

‘I’m five feet nine inches tall,’ said Daphne.

‘And I’m five feet five,’ said Pansy.

Theodore stared at her in exasperation, and shook his head. ‘No,’ he told her. ‘You’re no more than two inches shorter than Daphne.’

Pansy gave him a withering look. Lifting one leg, she took off an elegant shoe, and placed it on the table in front of him.

‘It’s called a stiletto, Theodore,’ she told him.

Annoyed by the fact that he’d missed something, he ignored her and turned back to a now very amused-looking Blaise.

‘Concentrate, Blaise,’ ordered Theodore. ‘Arms?’

Zabini grabbed Daphne’s upper arms and released them immediately. He turned and grabbed Pansy’s.

‘Not as flabby as Daphne’s, more like Pansy’s,’ he said confidently. Daphne hissed. Theodore watched with interest. Suddenly, Blaise was no longer bored. He was prepared to play the game. He watched as Blaise pulled Pansy close. Draco barely reacted.

‘She was nowhere near as… well-endowed as Pansy,’ Blaise announced. He stepped sideways and grabbed Perdita Spinks. She did not object. ‘More like Perdita.’

‘Flat-chested, then,’ said Pansy looking scornfully at Perdita.

‘So, we’re looking for a girl who is probably around five feet eight, who is, um, flat-chested and fairly slim. But she could be…’ Theodore glanced meaningfully at Pansy, who took the opportunity he gave her.

‘If she was wearing heels, she could be anywhere between five feet five and five feet eight,’ said Pansy.

‘That’s the best I can do for you, Draco; I’m sorry. But as Lovegood and Weasley are no taller than Davis, then we can be sure that it wasn’t them.’

Although he spoke to Malfoy, Theodore was watching Zabini. For a second, he thought that Blaise had an idea.

‘Perhaps Granger sneaked back into school,’ suggested Pansy. ‘In heels, she’d be the right height and build.’

‘Mudbloods stink, Pansy,’ Zabini said. ‘I’d have been able to smell her.’

Draco nodded his agreement.

‘All we can do is look around the school, Malfoy. I’m sorry,’ said Theodore. ‘Unless your intimate knowledge of girls has given you anything else, Blaise.’

Everyone except Draco laughed. The Slytherin’s laughter at whatever had amused them was stifled by Draco’s scowl.

‘We must get the Sketch Board back,’ the Head Boy announced angrily. ‘This is no laughing matter. It must be everyone’s top priority. Tomorrow morning, everyone must try to track down the thief.’

‘We will, Draco,’ Pansy promised.

Draco snarled and stormed from the room. Theodore grabbed Zabini’s sleeve and indicated that he wanted a final word in private.

‘You thought of a name, Zabini, I saw it in your eyes,’ he told him after everyone else had left. ‘Who was it?’

Zabini shook his head. ‘I can think of one girl who fits the description, but it can’t possibly be _her_ ,’ he said.

‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s Susan Bones!’

‘And?’ Theodore asked.

‘And I know for certain that she’s given at least four boys the brush off. And according to the rumours, it’s because she isn’t interested in boys.’


	5. The Unexpected Actions of Susan Bones

**5\. The Unexpected Actions of Susan Bones**

Ernie Macmillan took a deep, angry breath and began to stand.

‘Don’t draw attention to us, Ernie,’ Susan warned, placing a warning hand on his arm. ‘Malfoy is up to something, and I’m going to find out what. Wait here. If I’m not back before the library closes, take my bag back to the common room, please.’

‘But…’

Susan silenced him with a glare.

So far as Susan knew, Ernie had never been inside Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. He’d certainly told everyone that it wasn’t his sort of place. If it were true, he wasn’t equipped for the task which lay ahead. Opening the battered old leather satchel that contained her school books, she pulled out her grey and white Falmouth Falcons pencil case and stuffed it inside her robes. The case, which appeared to contain nothing but coloured pencils, in fact contained every Weasley product she owned.

She’d been given the bag, and its contents, by the Weasley twins the weekend before she had returned to school. All Weasley products were, of course, banned by Headmaster Snape, but the twins had provided her, Neville, Ginny, and several other DA members with similar items. Her pencil case was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, and it contained a lot of useful items.

Stepping out of the library and thankful that she was wearing flat, soft soled shoes, Susan Disillusioned herself and dashed along the corridor after the four Slytherin boys.

‘I’ll have a surprise for that fat oaf Longbottom if he tries anything,’ she heard Draco say. Susan kept as close as she dared to the quartet and listened closely to Draco’s boasting.

When they reached the Slytherin common room, Susan used Goyle’s shoelace to trip him up, a trick she repeated to get into the “Head Boy’s Room”. As she entered, Susan stared at the brass plaque in disbelief. It was typically self-important of Draco Malfoy to try to make himself appear more important than others. Next, she thought sardonically, he’d be demanding his own private chambers. She could imagine his line of reasoning; someone as important as Draco should surely have his own room, rather than have share a dormitory.

Achieving Head Boy position should be enough of an honour. The job should be regarded as a responsibility. Respect for the position should be earned, not assumed. Draco simply used it to on to make bombastic statements, reward his undeserving and incompetent cronies, and reward himself.

While Draco organised the Slytherin students, Susan slipped silently into a corner and sat on the floor. She watched and listened while Draco explained his plan. As she listened, Susan became more and more concerned. She considered setting off a Decoy Detonator, grabbing the mirror, and making a run for it. However, as she attempted to calculate the odds of success, she dismissed the idea. Even invisible, could she avoid hexes from ten students, get through a common room filled with younger students and escape? It was extremely unlikely. Instead she simply watched the Slytherins as they squabbled.

Susan was good at being still and silent. Never sociable, she kept herself to herself and worked hard. Hard work and attention to detail, that was the only way to succeed; that advice was something both her father and his sister, her Aunt Amelia, had always agreed on. She had a plan for her life, a plan she’d discussed with her aunt. Of course, the plan depended upon her aunt’s murderer being defeated, which was far from certain. Nevertheless, Susan had set herself a goal, she—like her Aunt Amelia before her—would one day be Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Then, if possible, she’d become Minister for Magic.

There were three women Susan admired above all others: her aunt, the Head of her House, and the Head of Gryffindor. All three were professional, practical and single. It seemed obvious to Susan that an interest in boys would hold her back. Sometimes she wondered what she was missing.

As she sat, she watched Blaise Zabini closely. He was interested in girls, and he was of interest to many of them, too. He observed, he listened, and more importantly, he heard what they said. But while he was profligate with his affections, he was also picky. Zabini judged a girl by her appearance; he certainly wouldn’t be interested in a tall, skinny Hufflepuff half-blood. Susan felt herself blushing and tried to concentrate on the conversation and not on Blaise’s attractive, high-cheek-boned face. Her Aunt Amelia was right; boys were a distraction.

When Draco announced that he was going to put the Sketch Board into a secure store room, Susan decided to examine the room. Reaching into the pencil case she scrabbled around for the small item she needed. It took some time, but her fingers eventually brushed the unpleasantly squishy object, the newest Weasley product, an Invisible Eye. Pulling it out, she cautiously unwound the fine, fleshy, line, released the small spongy ball and licked the soft cup at the other end of the line. Wishing that she’d tested it first, she opened her eyes wide, and gingerly placed the cup onto her right eyeball.

Until she closed her left eye, the effect was nausea-inducing and extremely unpleasant. She swivelled her eyes, and the Invisible Eye moved with them. The first thing she did was to look back and check the corner where she was hiding. She was grateful to see nothing.

The fact that Draco knew the location of the Room of Requirement was bad news, although it seemed to Susan that he believed it was merely some kind of secret store cupboard, not the large classroom she knew it to be. With the Mirror and Sketch Board he’d be able to see everyone who entered the room. Even if they were invisible!

She worriedly checked the Mirror as it lay on the table. Fortunately, it was covered. If Draco uncovered it, and it began to sketch the occupants of the room, she would need to escape! She quickly found two Decoy Detonators in her pouch and placed them in her pocket.

Susan then sent the eye soaring high above the table. The sensible thing to do would be to steal the Sketch Board. Without it, the mirror would be useless. She carefully examined the door to the store cupboard. It was ancient and very solid.

The eye would fit under the door, she realised. She sent it into the cupboard and was pleasantly surprised to discover that the eye adjusted itself for the low light. The light which streamed under the wide gap at the bottom of the door was enough to see that the hinges were large and firm.

As the conversation moved to protecting the cupboard, Susan hastily withdrew the eye. She sent the eye high above the heads of the Slytherins and then down onto the table, where she examined the Sketch Board. After her examination, she began to formulate a plan. If the eye fitted under the door, so would the board.

In silence, Susan waited. Her patience went unrewarded. Instead of ushering everyone from the room as she’d expected, Draco left someone Blaise on guard. There was no alternative; she would have to Stun him and hope that none of the students in the common room heard the noise. As she slowly stood, Blaise walked across the room, opened a wooden chest and found himself a mug and a bottle of Butterbeer.

She had a Sleeping Draught in the pouch. That would be quieter than a Stunning Spell, which would almost certainly be heard in the common room. She found the Sleeping Draught; it was a Weasley twins special, and the stopper contained a small phial of antidote. “Just in case you accidentally knock out someone on your own side,” Fred had said when she bought it.

Susan tiptoed up behind Blaise, potion in hand. She tried to step around him, but he moved, and his arm brushed across her chest. He was fast, very fast. He whirled around, arms flailing, and managed to grab her. Strong hands held each of her arms, and all she had in her hand was the potion bottle.

‘Hello, invisible intruder,’ Blaise began. ‘Who are you, and how long have you been here?’ His smiling, handsome face was inches away from hers.

Susan needed time to think, so she kissed him.

_So this is what it’s like to kiss a boy,_ part of her mind thought, while she desperately tried to think of an escape plan. Blaise was, she assumed, an experienced kisser. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing so she relaxed and began to enjoy the experience. She risked placing her empty hand on his waist, and he pulled her in close.

‘Well, I don’t think I’ve ever kissed _you_ before,’ Blaise said when he finished. Unfortunately, he did not release her.

‘I sneaked in when the others left,’ Susan lied. ‘I wanted to be alone with you, close to you. Will you pour me a Butterbeer too?’ She tried to disguise her voice, lowering it to a husky whisper.

‘If I do, will you reveal yourself?’ Blaise asked.

‘Yes,’ Susan promised.

‘Don’t try anything stupid,’ Blaise warned. He released one arm, but held the other even tighter as he reached for a second mug and a second bottle. While he poured, Susan unstoppered the Sleeping Draught with her teeth. She bit into the phial containing the antidote and gulped it down. When Blaise finished pouring the second drink she stepped forwards and kissed him again, while he was distracted she clumsily poured the potion into both mugs.

‘Don’t you think that it’s more exciting, not knowing who I am?’ Susan asked breathlessly.

Blaise smiled, and for a second the creases in the corner of his eyes were almost enough to make Susan reveal herself.

‘In a way, yes. But you might be Daphne’s little sister. That would be a severe disappointment,’ he said.

Susan hastily thrust the potion bottle into her pocket, on top of the Decoy Detonators, and grabbed a mug of Butterbeer.

‘Cheers,’ she said, taking a drink and relying on the twins’ antidote to keep her conscious.

‘So, the other one has the Love Potion in it, does it?’ Blaise said smugly. He plucked the mug from Susan’s grasp and took a deep gulp. ‘Whoever you are, you need to be smarter than that to fool…’

As he collapsed, Susan caught Blaise under the arms and lowered him gently into the high-backed chair Draco had used to lord it over his fellow Slytherins. Picking up the empty mug from the floor she placed it on the table and began to implement her plan.

By Transfiguring one of her long fair hairs into a seven foot long steel wire, and using the Invisible Eye inside the store room to guide her, she was easily able to pull the Sketch Board off the easel and onto the floor. She Transfigured the wire back into hair and pulled it back out through the keyhole. Now all she needed was to find something to drag it out under the door.

Then the door opened. Susan spun around and opened her other eye to see Pansy Parkinson enter. There was a look of malevolent glee on the Head Girl’s face.

As Pansy approached Blaise, Susan, disorientated by the fact that one eye was looking at Pansy in a well lit room while the other one was looking at the dark stone floor of a cupboard, stumbled. The potion bottle that she’d hastily stuffed into her pocket fell onto the wooden floor and broke.

‘ _Stupefy_ ’ thought Susan, rapidly drawing her wand. Pansy flew back against the table, bounced off it and landed on top of Blaise.

Green lapis lazuli beads rolled everywhere, but Susan wasn’t interested in them. She disconnected the Invisible Eye and hastily re-orientated herself. The broken silver chain would be very useful, so she removed it from around Pansy’s neck. That done, she quickly arranged Pansy on Blaise’s lap, hoping that the position in which she’d placed them in would be enough to distract anyone who came through the door to investigate the noise of her stunning Spell.

Susan waited in silence for a very nervous few minutes, but fortunately, no one else entered.

Lengthening and Transfiguring the chain into a much longer half-inch wide steel chain was easy. Using the eye and her recreated makeshift hook to loop the chain around the Sketch Board and pull it under the door was frustratingly difficult, but after several nerve-racking minutes she succeeded. As she slowly and carefully eased the Sketch Board out under the door she was finally able to use her hands to drag it. There was less tolerance than she had thought; another couple of sheets of parchment would have made the theft impossible.

Returning her hook and Pansy’s silver chain to their original forms, she threw the chain into a corner and carefully pocketed her hair. Leaving even a single strand of hair behind could prove disastrous. She looked carefully around, and silently tried to _Accio_ any of her stray hairs. A couple floated up from the corner in which she’d been hiding. That done, she made a final check of the room.

Blaise’s head had fallen forwards, it was resting in Pansy’s cleavage. After a moment’s consideration, she decided not to move them. It would distract anyone entering. Besides, she had been in the room for a long time, Draco might be returning. Vanishing the broken remains of the potion bottle from the floor, she pushed the Sketch Board under her robes and fled.

The few students still in the Slytherin common room looked up curiously as the door to the Head Boy’s Room opened and closed. but no one did anything. As she stealthily crept through the crowded room, Susan looked around the place in horror. Here, the anti-Muggle-born propaganda she was sometimes forced to remove from the Hufflepuff common room was proudly displayed on the walls.

She stared in disbelief at a poster entitled “Conquer and Breed”, which showed a beautiful but terrified witch in low cut robes, being chased by a leering, ugly and slavering semi-human figure. Just in case there was any doubt as to the meaning, the woman wore a pure-blood label and the ugly creature was, apparently, a Mudblood. The writing underneath the vile image informed Susan that “Association Breeds Pollution”. She was fighting the urge to tear down the poster when the portrait opened and Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott entered. Taking the chance the slowly closing door offered, she dashed to freedom.

* * *

Susan slept late the following morning. It had been well after one o’clock in the morning when she had contacted Neville and Ginny, given a rapid explanation of what she had done and handed them the Sketch Board. The Gryffindor dormitories were, she knew, much more secure than her own.

Pleased with her night’s work, and still glowing from the praise she’d received from Neville and Ginny, Susan left the Hufflepuff dormitory and made her way towards the Great Hall for breakfast. As she strode along the corridor, Theodore Nott appeared in front of her. She looked down at him in surprise. Nott, a boy only marginally taller than Colin Creevey, never approached anyone.

‘Well done, Bones,’ he said.

‘What on earth are you talking about, Nott?’ she asked coldly.

Nott told her; he told her everything. He explained what she’d done, and how she’d done it. Susan tried her best to look confused.

‘I expect you’ve already moved it to somewhere more secure than your dormitory,’ he said. ‘But if I were you I’d create a copy of the Sketch Board, burn it, and leave the remains somewhere where they’ll be found. Malfoy will still want revenge of course, but at least he’ll stop looking for it. Zabini doesn’t think that it could possibly have been you, so you’re probably safe. Nevertheless, I suggest that you also spread the rumour that Granger, or one of the other Muggle-borns of your height and build, managed to sneak into the school.’

‘What?’ Susan croaked in disbelief. Why would Nott help?

‘Don’t be so stupid, Bones. Think! What would I gain by turning you over to Malfoy? You and your friends are not stupid. He’s not going to get the sketch pad back, is he?’ Susan fought to stop herself agreeing with him. 

‘Frankly, being associated with the Malfoys isn’t as important as it once was,’ Nott admitted. ‘And besides, Draco has no honour. Even if I turned you in, he’d take the credit. Nor would he value my assistance. You know he’d betray me in an instant if it suited him. I don’t believe that your side would betray me, but I’m not on your side. Being associated with Potter would be suicide for me. I remain firmly on the side of Theodore Nott. This is going to be an exciting year for all of us, Bones, especially as this conversation never happened. Good luck, don’t try to recruit me to your hopeless cause, and don’t forget what I’ve told you.’ With that, he turned on his heels and left.


End file.
